Thorns that pierce are petals' guardians
by Alabaster Princess
Summary: Sequel to Tainting Roses,and His Heavenly Hand. many years later, Marlena Prince receives some unsettling news.


Thorns that pierce are petals' guardians.

_November 1995_

Beneath the tower of parchments, buried in dust; a witch much younger than she appeared choked for the seventh time that evening. All the rest of her colleagues had left for the night, eager to return home to loved ones or family or friends. Marlena Prince had none of these. Her mother had died when she was still a teen and her father had pined for her; losing himself in drink and gambling away the family's fortune and many of the possessions, till just the two of them remained in the summer cottage, surrounded by the last vestiges of wealth they had once possessed in abundance.

Victor Prince would never have allowed his only daughter to take up common employment in the Ministry if they were not so desperate for the income, but Marlena found she enjoyed working in the department of records. She was no good with people, which made her suited to a job where one worked in solitude, and referencing and researching was something she found she enjoyed. Put her in a crowded room with many people from all walks of life and she would panic, give her a library and a question and she was in her element. Cataloguing all the old and outdated records was an excuse for her to read and learn more, and there were always new records and queries coming in; usually Wizarding Probate, or bloodline enquiries.

And so, the odd witch who had once been topic of gossip for her esteemed family's fall from grace was now the object of pity. A shame it was, everyone said, how she lived alone with just a cranky old man in his dotage. Had she never had any friends? No suitors for the lost looking woman, whose reading glasses, severe bun and patina of dust gave the image of a witch much older than just 31. Instead, she could often be found in the vaults long after everyone else had left, poring over old manuscripts until her fair skin became deathly pale from lack of sunlight and her dark eyes favoured the dim candlelight to summer sun. A ghost she appeared, and no faded beauty either, as lovely was something she had never been.

However even as she sat alone, somewhere someone remembered her. Last of an ancient Pure line, with influence from ancient alliances, and unparalleled access to the Ministry and it's long lost secrets. Treasures still remained in the family vaults in trust, and not all in silver and gold either. Rumour spoke of artefacts that had once belonged to that line. And in the dim of evening's twilight, the one who waited made their move.

Marlena awoke with a jolt upon hearing a clatter on the parquet floor of the main vault. She had fallen asleep hunched over her desk again! Chiding herself on her foolishness, she closed the ancient Goblin treaty written in ancient runes and stretched out her aching back. She felt very old as her muscles protested and her spine gave a sickening crack. Something had awoken her and she felt a little wary in the dark. However, her eyes were better accustomed to little light than anyone else's and so she saw her visitor before they spotted her.

"Professor Dumbledore?" she queried curiously. She had never met the old Warlock herself, having never attended Hogwarts, but had seen him from a distance while going about her work in the Ministry.

"Yes, indeed. May I safely assume that you are Miss Marlena Prince?" he asked in a reassuring soft voice.

"Of course, how do you do?" she nodded politely. Her father had raised her to be completely polite and proper, by means of a painfully strict education.

"How do you do." The aged professor greeted in return, but his smile was strained and it fuelled her curiosity.

"I do not wish to seem rude Professor, but what brings you here so late?" she asked.

"Ah, I'm afraid I bear sad news. You are no longer safe my child. It seems certain acquaintances of your father have turned out to be unwise, to his downfall. I have come to offer you protection, if you will accept it." He said gravely.

"Protection? From what? What has happened to my father?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm afraid your father is no longer with us, but we cannot discuss this here. We must get away from the place you are known to frequent and continue our conversation in safety." Dumbledore replied, looking around them as though expecting attack or spies in all directions.

"Very well Professor, I will come with you." She replied in a daze. Surely the professor did not mean what she thought he meant? Not her Papa?

Swiftly and silently they exited the Ministry and Marlena allowed Dumbledore to Apparate her to a street she did not recognise. He came to stand behind her as she stared at the dilapidated houses.

"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix are at 12 Grimmauld Place." He whispered softly in her ear, the white whiskers tickling as he spoke. Suddenly, another house appeared from nowhere and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

"Follow me." Dumbledore said quietly, and she did; into this dilapidated house which seemed a remnant of former glory. That she could understand. Sitting in a small salon, she could have been back in her Father's house, the one they sold when the debts climbed too steep.

"I am very sorry to tell you your father is indeed dead, Marlena. A combination of debt, greed and misguided beliefs had him operating on the periphery of some dangerous groups of people, and these acquaintances inevitably became his downfall. The Dark Mark was spotted above your home, and we have known for some time that Victor associated with known Death Eaters." Dumbledore's wise voice spoke gravely.

Marlena inhaled sharply in shock, but no tears fell. It did not feel real. Her father had been somewhat cold, and strict, but she had still loved him like a dutiful daughter. He had never been purposely cruel, or hurtful, and had tried to express affection, in his own way.

"Why would they want to kill him?" she asked hoarsely.

"Many reasons. They may have wished him to join, and he refused. They were interested in many of the artefacts your father still retained in his possession, and they desired his position of influence among many of the important wizards of his day. And of course, they were very interested in you." He replied.

"Me? Why would they want me? I'm not a very good witch, and I have never expressed any interest in the Dark Arts! I have enough trouble with intermediate Charms!" she gasped.

"Because of who you are my dear. You are the last of the pureblood Princes, and your mother was a Beaumont, was she not? Your blood is of great interest to them. You also have a position of trust and access in the Ministry, which they could use to their advantage. That and the fortune you inherit upon your marriage, including many rare manuscripts. You are, after all, still a lovely young witch." He replied in a kindly tone.

"Lovely? Me? Ha!" she spat. "Do not try to soften me with words of flattery Professor. I know full well the face that assaults me from my mirror!" Dumbledore shook his head softly, but did not argue.

"Of course you realise we do not want them to carry out their plan, whatever their reasons for their interest in you. Therefore, I offer you sanctuary here, among my people. If you are careful to only be at the Ministry with others around you, this should not cause too much of a disruption to your life." Dumbledore ploughed on.

"Thank you Professor. However I am still waiting for the other shoe to drop." She asked, with untrusting narrowed eyes that were so familiar to the old Headmaster. He should have known she would be just as stubborn, he thought.

"The knowledge that I have foiled one of their plots my dear. However, if you are not averse to the idea, would be grateful for your assistance now and again, and information you may come across that is pertinent to our little group." He said with a twinkle in eyes of china blue.

"I knew it!" she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Very well Professor, I agree. Now tell me, what exactly IS the Order of the Phoenix?" she asked, with a calculating gleam in obsidian eyes.


End file.
